Hold On Tight
by LadyofaLake
Summary: England gets home to find that America is missing. He has been accused by the townspeople of witchcraft and dark magic, and is set to burn at the stake. But no one messes with the British Empire. No one.
1. Rescue

England walked up the grassy hill leading to their home for the first time in a month. He smiled, thinking of the little colony that was waiting for him. Hopefully the maid had taken proper care of him in his absence... Arthur had tried to stay; after all, Alfred was still very small. Ever since he found the colony decades ago, the empire had even temporarily switched his personal headquarters to their land in Virginia just so he could take care of him. This was not the most convenient place for others, though, so he would occasionally have to take trips to larger towns to conduct business.

England rapped his knuckles on the door. "Alfred, I've returned-! Oh... Oh my..."

The door gave way under his fingers, the heavy wooden door bar that blocked it shut (and only used in emergencies, he added with increasing worry) falling into pieces without its support. The interior was a complete wreck. Tables were overturned, chairs had rips in the fabric, and broken ceramics littered the floor. It looked as if the place had been robbed. Or worse.

"Alfred! ALFRED!" Arthur called frantically, running up the stairs. The boy wasn't in his room. "AMERICA!"

The nation ran out the door and down the slope, heading for the square. If Alfred wasn't there, someone there may have seen him. Looking down the road, there seemed to be a sort of crowd... Realizing what it was about, Arthur's stomach dropped.

"You two there! To the square, now! As fast as you possibly can!" England barked to the British soldiers that were his drivers. The nation jumped onto the carriage, holding onto the side as it sped off.

It was just as he feared. Standing in the middle of the square, pointing to the sky as if to pierce it with its monstrous carved pike, was a stake. Surrounding that stake was a gigantic pile of firewood. And on top of that pile, tied to the stake and gagged, was a familiar little boy.

"This boy is a demon child!" a man declared, standing on a small stage in front of the stake. "He has lived in the house on yonder hill for years, and has not aged a single hour! He is possessed by the Devil, and we must cleanse him of his satanic master!" he raised a torch into the air. "With _FIRE!_"

Alfred's innocent, tear-filled eyes widened in fear and he gave a muffled shriek. The crowd cheered, waving pitchforks, torches, and other make-shift weapons above their heads. They were cut short as a musket shot blasted through the air.

"You will do no such thing." the quiet words sliced through the silence.

The crowd craned their necks, looking at the English nobleman holding the smoking gun. England panted slightly, filled with a cold rage like he had never felt before. Red flashed before his eyes. He wanted to slaughter every last one of these, these creatures that dared to threaten Alfred, his precious America.

The townspeople cleared him a path as the empire slowly marched up to the stage, his footsteps the only sound.

"Sir," the false preacher protested. "This child has been taken under the devil's thorny wing! Animals and wild beasts are drawn to him, like moths to a candle fire. He has outlived even the eldest of our village. Surely, you don't think such a creature innocent-"

The man was cut off as a bayonet was pushed against his throat. The crowd gasped.

"That '_creature_'," England growled, his green eyes burning. "Is my _son_. You will release him from this barbarism at once."

"Your son? How?" the preacher gasped. His eyes widened. "Unless-"

"You are in no position to ask questions!" the empire barked.

"-'How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!'" the man turned to the audience. "If this man is the demon's father, then this man is Satan himself!"

The townspeople flew into absolute panic. The air was filled with shrieks and screams. Half of the people turned and ran, while the others rushed the stage, brandishing their weapons.

Arthur sprinted to the stake, ignoring the priest as his continued to rile up the crowds.

"It's alright," England whispered gently to the sobbing America. He worked at the ropes around the colony feverishly with his bayonet, glancing over his shoulder at the far-too-rapidly-approaching mob. "It's going to be alright, I'm getting you out of here- _NO!_"

Britain threw himself in front of his colony just as a vicious-looking man lunged at the child with his pitchfork. The farm tool caught England in the stomach, and nearly came out the other side. He fell to the ground, blood mixing with the mud.

Then he started to laugh.

It was an icy, bone-chilling chuckle, filled with rage and tinged with hysteria. It struck a deep, primitive fear in all the people within earshot. Those frightened people would tell their children, then grandchildren, of this horrible, horrible, laugh. Then, one day, nearly four centuries later, a struggling author would find their great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother's diary in a bin in the corner of their attic, and read a story in it that her grandfather had told her. A story about a horrible demon with a terrible laugh. That author would then write a book about a horrible demon with a terrible laugh, inspired by the old diary, and become a bestseller. And that bestseller would become a classic, allowing that laugh to haunt many generations after that.

The crowd stilled, watching the man on the stage. He stood up, blood dribbling out of his mouth. Wincing, he slowly pulled the farm tool out of his abdomen. He threw it on the ground beside the man who attacked him and chuckled.

"You idiots." England said, wiping his mouth with his white shirt sleeve. He took his bayonet and sliced the bonds holding America. He pulled the gag out of the colony's mouth. The boy started sobbing and threw himself into his caretaker's arms.

"They bust down the door and came in an' I tried to get away but I wasn't fast enough an' t-they snatched me up an'-" Alfred blubbered.

"There, there," the nation cooed gently. "I've got you. You're safe, just hush, yes? Be very quiet-"

"-Like a rabbit?" the colony asked hopefully. He loved rabbits.

"Yes," England replied, looking nervously as the people started fidgeting. "Yes, quiet as a rabbit. But hold on tight to me now, alright? And don't look at anyone. Keep your eyes right on mine."

The nation made his way across the crowd, not too fast, but directly to the carriage. They watched him with wary and terrified eyes, but didn't make a move. England clutched America tighter.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached their carriage. England quickly got in, keeping America securely on his lap.

"Get us away from here."

The carriage drove off, leaving the rioting colonists in its dust.

* * *

**This is set around the Salem Witch Trials, aka when everyone was bat-shit crazy. Therefore, I don't mean to offend anyone of any religion or anything, (Unless you burn people at the stake. That's very bad and should be frowned upon) because everyone was crazy paranoid and they obviously aren't now.**

**Although, even if they weren't bat-shit crazy, a nation living in a colonial town would be pretty suspicious anyway, with the whole barely aging bit.**


	2. Reunion

America clutched England's bloodstained shirt as the carriage bounced along the road, sobbing quietly. England stroked the boy's hair, humming softly and holding him close.

"Shh... Hush now, hush, you're safe now..." he cooed. "You were very brave, Alfred..."

He sang lullabies under his breath for a while, lulling the colony to sleep. He leaned back, gently moving America into a more comfortable position. The boy stirred, spreading out his little fingers.

"Hey Iggy?" Alfred asked groggily. Arthur smiled at the nickname. The boy still had trouble pronouncing "England" correctly and decide on the compromise.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Why were the people so mean?"

England sighed softly. He tangled his fingers in Alfred's hair, as if to reassure him the boy was still there.  
"They're humans, Alfred. They find people like us frightening. So they get mean."

"Why do they think we're so scary?" Alfred looked up at him with wide blue eyes.

"They don't understand us. They think that because we're different, we want to hurt them. That's why you can't tell anyone besides nations what your true name is: the humans wouldn't understand it."

"But why do they think we wanna hurt 'em?"

England sighed and looked out the window. It had started to rain.

"I don't know."

"...Oh." Alfred leaned his head against England's chest.

"Hey, Iggy? Where're we going?" America looked back up at his caretaker. He gave a gasp of excitement and jumped up. "Oh! Are we going to Mattie's and Pa's? Pleaseplease pretty pleeeeeease with a cherry on top can we go there?"

England chuckled. "Yes, that's where we're going."

"YAY!" Alfred cheered. He got up and started running around the carriage. "I'm gonna see Mattie! I'm gonna see Mattie!" he jumped up to the front window and opened it.

"Hey! Guess what?" the boy asked one of the drivers.

"What?" the driver replied, an amused smile on his face.

"I'm gonna go see my brother!"

"Alfred, be careful! Get down from there!" Arthur ordered. Alfred jumped down and started running in circles again, cackling.

"Sorry about that." Arthur said apologetically to the driver. "Take us to Montreal, please."

The empire shut the window. He sat down, waiting for Alfred to stop bouncing off the walls. The boy finally sat down after thirty minutes.

"Hey, Artie?"

"Yes Alfred."

"Are we there yet?"

England sighed.

* * *

"Papa! _Quelqu'un est ici!_" Canada called into the house. His periwinkle eyes lit up as he recognized the carriage. He gave an excited squeal. "_C'est_ Al _et_Daddy!"

"_Quoi, Mathieu? Angleterre et Amérique sont ici?_" France stepped into the doorway, polishing a wineglass with his apron. "Ohonhonhon~ Ze could not resist us, _oui?_"

His sly smirk fell as a tattered and bloodstained England emerged from the carriage. He set down the wineglass and started walking over.

"MATTIE!" America jumped out and started running toward his brother.

"Al!" the twins met in the middle.

"Mattie, you'll never _ever_in a million years guess what happened!"

"What? What is it?"

France smiled as the two boys chatted eagerly. He noticed England stumbling and ran over, quickly catching him before he hit the ground.

"Are you alright, _Angleterre?_"

"I'm fine, Frog." the jab came out weaker than usual. He leaned against the carriage, clutching his abdomen. "These wounds just haven't healed completely quite yet."

"What 'appened?"

"I ended up on the wrong side of a pitchfork." at France's raised eyebrow, England continued. "America was accused of being a 'demon child'. You know how humans can be when we stay in one place for too long."

"_Mon dieu!_" France gasped. He knew, indeed, what humans did when they found out about nations' immortality. He ran over to the American twin and scooped him up in his arms. "_Mon cheri_, are you okay?"

"'m fine, don't worry, Pa!" America said, pushing against him. He grinned. "It was really scary, but then Iggy came in and got me. He was super cool! It all started when Mary- she takes care of me when Iggy's not there- well, she and I heard some people out side so we took the big bar thing and put it on the door but they tried to come in and were banging on the door like 'BANG! BANG!' and they broke it down and snatched me and tied me to a stick! And then the guy was being all scary, but then Iggy drove up..."

England chuckled as he watched America tell France his story. He picked up Canada. "And how have you been, my little gentleman?"

"I found a polar bear the other day. I named him Kuma... Kuma-something." Matthew said softly, smiling. "I think he'd like to meet you."

"Oh, would he now?" England smiled, unsure as to whether the colony was making it up or not. "And did France let you keep this bear?"

"Yes! I was _so_ _happy!_" he said, getting as close as he could get to a yell. "Kuma's so soft, and he really likes me. When Papa tried to take him away he growled at him, so Papa said he can stay with us as long as he gets his own food. But-" Matthew leaned in. He lowered his voice until it was hardly audible. "I've been giving Kuma pancakes."

"Really?" England said, trying not to laugh.

"Please don't tell France! They're Kuma's _favorite._"

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Arthur chuckled.

"-And then the scary guy was like 'This guy's super evil!' and everyone freaked out..." America told France.

"Daddy," Canada said, suddenly looking up at England with tears in his eyes. "Y-You don't think the scary people are gonna come after _me_, do you?"

"Oh, Matthew," Arthur said softly. He kissed the colony on the forehead. "I don't think they're coming after us anymore. And you know what?"

"What?"

"If they _do_ come, your Papa and I will do anything, _anything_to ensure that you and your brother are safe. I give you my word. So you can stop worrying, alright?" he smiled.

"Alright." Matthew smiled back.

"Good." England looked over to the other pair. America had just finished his story. "Now, who wants some tea?"

* * *

Translations:

_Quelqu'un est ici!_- Someone is here!

___C'est_ Al _et_ Daddy!- It's Al and Daddy!

___Quoi, Mathieu? Angleterre et Amérique sont ici?-_ What, Matthew? England and America are here?

___Mon cheri-_ my darling

**I love the FACE family so much! I think this might be the end, although I might do a present day epilogue. Depends on what you guys want.**


	3. Conquest

Thunder clashed outside of England's window. He looked over as the wind rattled the shutters fiercely, but they held. He turned back to his book.

He was re-reading _ Romeo and Juliet_, as it was the only book the Frog had that was in English. Even so, he would have probably chosen it anyway. It's soothing ten-meter and familiar words calmed his frazzled nerves.

Suddenly America ran through the doorway, tears staining his chubby cheeks. The boy quickly jumped onto the large bed and curled up against his surprised caretaker.

"Alfred, what is it? What's wrong?" the empire asked frantically. The colony just sobbed harder. "Did you wet the bed? Is the rain scaring you? Did you hit your head against the wall?"

Alfred shook his head and buried his face against Arthur's side.

"T-There was someone bangin' on the window..." the boy blubbered. "An' then I s-saw'm lookin' in at me!" he collapsed back into tears.

"Oh, America, it's alright..." England said consolingly, petting the colony's hair. "It's just the trees. The wind is making the branches hit the shutters. All you saw were shadows."

The boy didn't look up from the soft silk of his nightshirt.

"...Would you like me to read to you?"

Alfred nodded, snuggling underneath Arthur's arm.

"Alright," the nation said, opening the book. "I'll just go back to the beginning of the scene, yes? This is your Pa's favorite part, the romantic idiot...

_"'But soft; what light through yonder window breaks?It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!_

_Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,_

_That thou her maid art far more fair than she...'"_

Before England could even finish Romeo's famous monologue, he noticed his America's steady breathing. Smiling softly, he gently closed the volume and set it on the bedside table. Arthur gently lifted the colony to retrieve the covers from under him and tucked the boy in. He was just going to turn out the light when a small voice stopped him.

"Hey, Iggy?" America said sleepily.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"I love you. I love you lots and lots and lots."

'_I love you lots and lots and lots._' Tearing up at the pure, unadulterated innocence of his colony, England pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead. How could anyone, _anyone_, ever believe this child was evil, much less hurt him?

"I love you, too, Alfred." he said softly once he could manage words. "More than you'll ever know."

England fell into a doze, hypnotized by America's soft snores. He was awoken by the sound of small feet pattering on the floorboards.

"D-Daddy?" Canada said nervously, standing in the doorway. He clutched a real, live, polar bear cub to his chest. That must be the "Kuma" the boy was talking about.

"Matthew? Are you afraid of the storm, too?" England asked softly.

"N-No, but Alfred- A-And Papa-" the colony hugged his polar bear tighter. It didn't seem to mind. "C-Can I just sleep with you for the night?"

"Of course you can," England said, a warm smile on his face.

The colony climbed onto the bed (Kuma following not far behind) and curled up in the arm that wasn't holding his twin. Matthew sighed contentedly, feeling warm and safe. Arthur pressed a kiss to his forehead, too.

With a boy in each arm, the empire fell asleep feeling like he was exactly where he belonged.

* * *

"I'm going to the market." England declared, rifling through the cupboards. "I can't stand to eat another bite of that poison you insist on feeding us."

"'Poison'? Oh, _mon ami_, you wound me!" France fake-gasped. "Although I must forgive you; that 'orrible garbage that you call food must 'ave worn down your tastebuds so zat you cannot process anything that isn't burnt to a coal!"

"I would rather eat coals than flies, Frog!"

"Didja say you were gonna go to the market?" Alfred asked, pulling on England's trouser leg. "Can I come with you? _Pleeease?_"

"Well..." he was still worried about his colony's safety; what if word had spread about the 'devil' and his 'demon child'? Then again, they had fled very far very fast... Even after four days, the news probably hadn't reached them yet. And, by god, when the boy made those puppy eyes he was almost too adorable to stand... "I suppose you can come along. But only if you promise to stay close to me!"

"Why don't we all go?" France suggested innocently (as if that Frog was ever innocent). He picked up Canada, helping him reach the jug of maple syrup that rested on the counter. "As a family, _non?_"

England scowled. Spending a day with France "as a family" was the last thing he wanted to do (at least that's what he wanted the Frog to think), but now _both_ twins were giving him pleading looks. He _would_ get to spend some time with the boys...

"Excellent."

* * *

"Alfred, please be careful! Don't touch that!" England yelled.

"_Mon cheri_, you worry too much." France clucked. "You make me think of an overprotective hen."

"I 'worry too much'? Francis, he was playing with knives!" Arthur pointed to the knife seller's stand.

"What is ze problem?" the Frenchman shrugged. "I let Mathieu prepare the vegetables for dinner and he 'ardly ever gets hurt."

"Yes, but that's _Matthew _we're talking about. Alfred was wielding it like a bloody sword!"

"_Oui?_ Did you call me?" Matthew asked them.

"Oh, it's nothing of importance, dear." Arthur said. "But do try to keep your brother out of trouble-"

"Mattie, Artie, Franny, look! He's got BUNNIES!" Alfred cried, before speeding off.

Arthur sighed before running after him. He found him looking into a small pen of rabbits.

"This one's Polka-dot, and this one's Stripey- Stripey, stop bugging Loulou! And that one's Carrot, and this one's Dandelion..." Alfred pointed to each of the animals in turn. Arthur smiled as he watched him.

"Can I help you?" the owner of the shop asked them. He was wearing a hat that cast his face in an eerie shadow. England frowned. His voice sounded familiar...

Oh no. No, it couldn't be. How could he be here?

The owner eyed the colony with a malicious and hungry grin. Arthur felt his blood run cold. It was.  
He was the priest who had tried to burn America.

"Alfred," Arthur said carefully, putting his arm protectively around the boy. "Why don't you go back and tell your brother about the rabbits?"

"But-"

"Alfred." the nation's voice took on a warning tone. "I'll give you a sweet when we get back to Papa's house, alright? Just go- Argh!"

Suddenly, the man was on top of him, brandishing a decorated knife. The nation held him back frantically with his arm as the man tried to stab him repeatedly. Looking up, he saw France and the twins.

"Run, RUN! I'll handle him; just take the boys and RUN!" England yelled over the screams of the bystanders. Nodding once, France scooped up a frightened colony in each arm and fled.

England turned his attention back to the battle. He kneed the man in the stomach and quickly flipped them over, gaining the upper hand. He grabbed the dagger and quickly stood up. The priest struggled, trying to stand, but England kicked him back to the ground.

"You don't have any idea who you're dealing with," Arthur scoffed, pinning down the other man with his foot.

"I know of thy ways, Satan! You cannot twist me with your lies!" the man spat.

"You call me the devil," England sneered. He leaned in, the pressure making the priest cry out in pain. "But I'm much worse than that."

The man's eyes widened in fear. Arthur released him from his hold, kicking dirt in the priest's face.

"Who are you, then, who claims to be worse than Lucifer himself?" the man wheezed.

"I have many names," Arthur said, circling the man like a bird of prey and playing with the knife in his hands. "Most people would tell you I'm simply Sir Arthur Kirkland, advisor to His Majesty." he smirked. "My crew would tell you that I'm Captain Kirkland- that is, if they didn't kill you first.

"The Spanish call me '_el Capitáno de la Muerte_', 'The Captain of Death'." the nation gave a dark chuckle. "My friends would call me England, but I don't have friends. My allies call me Britain. My enemies call me the British Empire."

"But that's impossible!" the man sputtered, coughing up blood. "How-"

"You don't deserve to know, and it won't matter in a few minutes, in any case." England said calmly, cleaning his fingernails with the dagger. Suddenly he dropped down, his knees pounding into the man's abdomen. "Because do you know which name of mine I prefer the most?"

The false priest could only moan in response.

"Out of all of my names, I prefer 'Daddy'. Do you know why?"

The man started coughing violently, each breath a painful gasp.

"I prefer 'Daddy' because that is what my colonies call me. Have you realized your fatal mistake or do I have to explain it to you even more?"

The child-killer wheezed. England took this as a sign to continue.

"You tried to _burn_ one of my colonies, one of my _sons_." the empire spat. "He's a bloody child, for Christ's sake! And then you have the _nerve_, the _stupidity_, to follow us, to attack us. Well, I do hope you've learned your lesson..."

Arthur stood up, brushing himself off. He walked out of the shade of a tree they ended up under. His fae were waiting for him, the fairies' wings glittering in the sun. The nation turned back to the murderer.

"You should have executed _me_ for witchcraft." England looked at his mythical friends, switching his speech to the language of the People. "_Finish him, for he hath harmed my youngling._"

The Fae hissed with sinister glee, their eyes glowing red and their claws extending. They descended upon the dying man.

"Then again, I'd advise you not to mess with me in general." England threw the decorated dagger on the ground and calmly walked away from the violent scene. "It can lead to severe consequences."

* * *

Translations:

_mon ami_- my friend

_mon cheri- _my darling

**England fluff and bad-assery all in one chapter! I'll do one more chapter, to wrap up, but no promises on the epilogue (sorry). Thanks for reading! **

**Oh, and I don't own Hetalia (and I haven't for the last two chapters. Also, unless I magically get it into my possession for the next few chapters, I won't own it then, either) or Romeo and Juliet (although it's public domain, so I guess disclaimers don't really matter...)**


End file.
